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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166508">Rough Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shupadoop/pseuds/shupadoop'>shupadoop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Boyfriends, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Eventual Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Rough Sex, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:01:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shupadoop/pseuds/shupadoop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Several years post-war Draco's miserable and alone. He starts to find value in living when he develops some unlikely relationships.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Finished faves</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco quickly ordered and downed another fire whiskey when he heard a familiar voice enter the pub. This had become his custom - days drudging through a job where everyone hated him, evenings in the pub where, well, everyone also hated him, but his inheritance could still buy good service. He would throw back shots until he was just bleary enough that the idea of another night passed out on his bed seemed almost tolerable, and would drag himself home. If he’d thought about it, he would have realized he was bound to bump into an uncomfortably familiar face eventually, but he didn’t think about it. He didn’t think about much these days.</p><p><br/>He sank into the bar letting his shoulders crumple, hoping he would go unnoticed as Harry, Ron, and Hermione passed him. He had no such luck.</p><p><br/>“Oi, git! Surprised you’re showing your face these days.”</p><p><br/>“Ron, just leave it.”</p><p><br/>“No! His family would have butchered us, yet he sits here like he’s a normal person. He’s a slimy toad and should be rotting in Azkaban with his good-for-nothing father!”</p><p><br/>Draco turned to gaze at them with steely eyes and a tight jaw. He said nothing.</p><p><br/>“Guess he’s out of come backs now that his side’s lost for good,” said Harry.</p><p><br/>The faintest glimmer of anger flashed in Draco’s eyes, but he stayed silent, watching with feigned indifference. The three walked away to the furthest table they could find.</p><p><br/>Draco tried to ignore his old classmates, but couldn’t stop himself from peering over from time to time. He kept downing shots until his roaring guilt was muted to a low hum. Noticing the three preparing to leave he quickly paid and left, hoping to avoid another painful encounter.</p><p><br/>His fine leather boots clicked on the cobblestones as he stepped out into the chilly night air. He paused for a moment before turning away from the direction of home and walking to the end of the street, silken cloak swishing behind him. He stepped into the black shadows beside a closed shop and swiftly punched the jagged brick wall. His hand made an unnerving smack against the stone and his knuckles erupted in bloody spurts. He could easily have healed himself before losing even a drop of blood, but he did nothing to fix his injury. Instead he focused on the pain, willing it to overwhelm the guilt clawing its way into his throat. He leaned his forehead against the freezing stone and let out a moan as he began to tremble. Then he rolled over against the wall and let his backside sink down onto the street, ignoring the lustrous fabric catching and ripping against the wall. For once his usually perfect outside could match his ragged inside. He sank his head into his arms crossed over his knees and started to cry.</p><p><br/>“Malfoy?”</p><p><br/>In the coolest tone he could muster, he answered “what do you want, Potter?”</p><p><br/>Nearly a full minute of silence passed.</p><p><br/>“I said what the fuck do you want, Potter?”</p><p><br/>Harry took a few steps closer and saw the blood trail from Draco’s hand. He muttered a healing charm and watched the broken skin reform. Draco turned to face Harry. He stared at him with dead eyes as he balled his hand and punched the wall beside him as hard as he could, undoing Harry’s work.</p><p><br/>“What the fuck is wrong with you!? Are you that disgusted at the idea of being helped by a mud blood!?”</p><p><br/>New tears started to form in the corners of Draco’s eyes. He prayed Harry hadn’t noticed, but this seemed unlikely as Harry stopped yelling, turned on his heal, and calmly walked away. Eventually Draco found some motivation to apparate home and pass out on his bed, letting the blood from his hand stain his white sheets.</p><p>        ***</p><p> </p><p>The next work day Draco entered his office and much to his horror found Harry sitting in a chair in front of his desk. Harry’s face fell too when Draco sat in front of him.</p><p><br/>“Mr. Fawcett told me I’d need sign off from the Under Secretary. He didn’t tell me who the Under Secretary was. Did your daddy buy you this job?”</p><p><br/>Draco stared, anger rising. “I see you’ve gotten a promotion Potter; regular aurors have no reason to be in my office. Aren’t you a bit green to be a senior auror?”</p><p><br/>“I assume I’m wasting my time here.”</p><p><br/>Harry stood up to leave, but Draco stopped him with an open hand held out for his files. Harry handed them to Draco who silently signed them with barely a glance and handed them back.</p><p><br/>“What are you playing at, Malfoy?”</p><p><br/>Draco looked up at Harry still standing over him, rage now apparent in his features. Rage that Harry seemed to think was directed at him.</p><p><br/>“Upset your father couldn’t buy his way out of prison?”</p><p><br/>“My father can rot in hell.”</p><p><br/>“Has he lost your respect because he finally got wrapped in something he couldn’t bribe or blackmail his way out of?”</p><p><br/>“He lost my respect because he fucking murdered people, Potter!” roared Draco. “He was a piece of shit and he ruined my family! My mother is a nervous wreck who can’t find reason to get out of bed most mornings. My father’s colleagues are either in Azkaban or have completely cut off all ties to my family to save themselves while they live off cushy jobs my father helped them get in the first place. My old school friends are upset that our side lost. They think someone as terrible as Voldemort will rise and take over where he failed, that the war was just the beginning. Everybody I knew is a hypocrite or completely delusional, Potter!”</p><p><br/>“And half the people around me died!”</p><p><br/>“Yeah, I know! I fucking know! But you can keep on living knowing you made the right decisions. You were on the right side of history, you were the fucking chosen one! People hate me, no matter what I do. I am as lenient as I can possibly be in this job, but everybody whines that I’m a hard-ass. People snicker or flat out run away when I pass by. I have nothing, Potter.”</p><p><br/>“Maybe you deserve it.”</p><p><br/>Draco’s eyes fell to his desk. He waited for Harry to leave and shut the door before he let his head fall onto the hard wood with a thunk. He wondered if he’d find motivation to lift it ever again.</p><p>             ***</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately Draco’s boss, Mr. Bathurst, thought Draco was too lenient this time.</p><p><br/>“Potter’s explanation isn’t good enough; go get a full write-up that details the need for every knut.”</p><p><br/>“I’ll tell him in the morning.”</p><p><br/>“You’ll tell him now.”</p><p><br/>“But, sir, it’s half past five. He’s probably gone home.”</p><p><br/>“I see a light in his office; you’ll go now.”</p><p><br/>Draco headed to Harry’s office as Mr. Bathurst apparated home. He tapped the glass door.</p><p><br/>“Mmmm? Oh, it’s you.”</p><p><br/>“Yes, it’s me. Mr. Bathurst isn’t happy with your expense report from this morning. He wants a thorough rewrite.”</p><p><br/>“There was nothing wrong with it!”</p><p><br/>“Regardless, Mr. Bathurst wants it rewritten in excruciating detail.”</p><p><br/>“You’re just loving this, aren’t you Malfoy?”</p><p><br/>“Not at all, Potter.”</p><p><br/>“Bull shite. You must be having a great time here. You get to boss people around all you please and if they don’t like it you can blame it on someone above you none of us ever interact with. I bet you’re loving this.”</p><p><br/>“If you have a problem, you can shout this drivel at Mr. Bathurst directly, be my guest! I haven’t bossed anybody around since school, Potter! I haven’t done anything wrong here, but it makes no fucking difference!”</p><p><br/>“Half of my friends died with the help of your family, your father’s friends! You’ll have a damn hard time getting any sympathy from me for your shitty, snivelling life!”</p><p><br/>“Punch me, Potter, fucking punch me! Nothing fucking matters!”</p><p><br/>Harry smacked Draco, open-handed. Much softer than Draco anticipated.</p><p><br/>“What was that, Potter!? Throw all your rage at me, show me how much you fucking hate me. Remind me I’m still breathing, Potter! Fucking fight me!’</p><p><br/>Harry dived toward him and yanked the front of his robes so their faces were inches away from each other. Harry glared down at him, clearly unsure what to do next. His hand faltered and he accidentally ripped Draco’s robes, exposing a lean white torso. Harry stared down in shock.</p><p><br/>Several moments passed before Draco said “hate fuck me, if you prefer.”</p><p><br/>Harry gaped openly at Draco now, surprised, but clearly not disgusted.</p><p><br/>“Everything is meaningless, Potter, show me how much you fucking hate me! Fuck me!”</p><p><br/>Harry smacked Draco’s ass and pushed him down onto the desk behind him, removing the remaining fabric barrier. He pulled off his own robes and pushed down his pants to free an erection he hadn’t even noticed he had. Draco dug his nails into Harry’s back. Harry muttered a lubrication spell and pushed himself into Draco’s tight arse, and Draco let out a pained yelp.<br/>Harry yanked Draco’s hair back and smacked him, but slowed his hips to a gentle grind. Eventually Draco let out a moan and Harry sped up, smashing into Draco, and biting his neck. He paused to flip Draco and bend him over the desk, ramming into him deeper. He spanked Draco as hard as he could and with a final thrust he released all he had and slowly slipped out and sank to the floor exhausted.</p><p><br/>Draco quietly muttered a spell to fix his robes, dressed, and left.</p><p>        ***</p><p> </p><p>Draco didn’t see Harry again, nor did he give him much thought until one morning several weeks later, Harry stormed into Draco’s office, slamming the door behind him.</p><p><br/>“What the fuck is this?” he threw a pile of papers across the desk, scattering Draco’s current task.</p><p><br/>“What are you talking about?”</p><p><br/>“Don’t play dumb, you want proof of necessity for every tiny thing going back years. How the Hell am I supposed to get this, isn’t it your job to keep track of this shite?”</p><p><br/>“It’s nothing to do with me, the department is being audited.”</p><p><br/>“Really? It’s just a coincidence I’m the only one with a pile of busywork this high? Why doesn’t Shaughnessy have to do this; we worked most of our cases together?”</p><p><br/>Draco stood, pulling out his wand to stack the strewn papers neatly on the far side of his desk. “Perhaps you should ask him to teach you how not to be a scatterbrained twit. If that’s all, I do have real work,” he motioned toward the door.</p><p><br/>Harry, seething, stomped toward Draco and stared him down inches away from his face.</p><p><br/>“If you wanted another fuck, Potter, why didn’t you just say so?”</p><p><br/>A moment later the blinds were drawn, the room had an enchanted silence, and the doors were triple locked so Harry could ram into Draco sloppily bent over his desk and his paperwork.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Months passed with Harry using Draco as a willing plaything. When Harry had a particularly stressful day, which was often, he would find a reason to fight with Draco and then fuck him senseless. Usually in one of their offices, once or twice in a dark alley, or the back room of a pub. If Harry waited for an opportune moment, Draco was sure he wouldn’t go through with it. The appeal of a hate-fuck was in the thoughtless urgency. The intensity of the act took over the for the numbing effect Draco craved from alcohol. He could drown himself in the adrenaline, or the outright physical pain to distract himself from the anguish that came from being worthless. He skipped the pub most days and found he managed a dreamless sleep most nights with a single shot before bedtime. He supposed he should be grateful for the extra time, but he had no idea what to do with it. Fucking only took up an hour a day if he was very lucky. He worked late as often as he could, but there were only so many things in the office he needed to do. He started to read whatever books he found tucked away on his dusty shelves. It filled the time, but did nothing to relieve his pitiful loneliness. When he passed colleagues in the office they no longer whispered, or ducked out of sight. They paid no attention to him at all. He wasn’t sure which was worse, being hated or treated like scenery.</p><p><br/>One evening at the end of a Harry-free fortnight he knew that Harry was expected to wrap up a particularly difficult case and thought he’d stick around to be Harry’s punching bag, but when 8:30 rolled around he decided it was time to give up for the night. He choked down a plum and a few bites of crackers and cheese — the bare minimum dinner he figured he could eat to avoid starvation — and considered where to go. He didn’t fancy going home — now, or ever, but particularly now. He thought of apparating into a secluded park and wandering aimlessly until he had only enough energy to get himself home. He picked a spot in the north west of Scotland, but as he was about to apparate, a precarious ink bottle fell off his desk and surprised him. Distracted, he mistakenly apparated to a residential London street.</p><p><br/>“Hey!” someone called. Draco whirled around, concerned he’d been seen, and tried to think which muggle-control tactic would be best in this situation. Before he came to any conclusion he was mowed over by a large, brown thing.</p><p><br/>“Snoopy! Snoopy, get down! I’m so sorry, mister.”</p><p><br/>Malfoy scowled and righted himself in the most dignified way he could manage, disheveled and covered in dog slobber. With Snoopy pulled off him, Draco took a magically absorbent handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiped himself off, wrung it out, and replaced it.</p><p><br/>“Wow, we need one of those! Where’d you get it?” asked the auburn-haired woman now standing in front of him.</p><p><br/>Draco paused, brow furrowed. “A gift from my mother.”</p><p><br/>“Your mother’s a clever woman.”</p><p><br/>Draco stared at the woman, unsure what to do.</p><p><br/>“My name’s Amanda, and,” she glanced over her shoulder, “that’s my husband Kevin catching up.”</p><p><br/>They both looked to be in their mid thirties and wore simple jeans and t-shirts. Draco couldn’t understand why they were being so friendly while he showed complete disinterest. Were muggles all so simple? At least half of them owned pets, and apparently they were too incompetent to know how to clean up after them properly. His hanky was nothing fancier than a child’s play thing, but it was remarkable enough for Amanda to ask about it.</p><p><br/>“Dr- uh,…. Draco,” he finally said when Amanda thrust her hand out to shake. He was fairly certain this was not a typical muggle name, but he didn’t know of any he could summon on the spot, so his real name would have to do.</p><p><br/>“Wow, you have a fancy old-fashioned name to match your fancy old-fashioned clothes,” said Kevin. Going to a fancy dress do?</p><p><br/>“… leaving one.” Draco had no idea what a fancy dress do was, but he hoped that would cut off that branch of the conversation. He realized he could make excuses and walk away any time, but this was the only time since the war he’d had a light conversation. Possibly the first time in his whole life where there were no undertones of one-upmanship or outright bribery or threats. Here he was completely unknown. Just a regular person, even if an oddly dressed one. He wasn’t ready to leave this strange new world.</p><p><br/>“Do you live around here, Draco?”</p><p><br/>“No. I needed a change of scenery.”</p><p><br/>Kevin and Amanda continued making idle chitchat, leaving Draco wondering why he’d ever decided to skip the pub.</p><p><br/>Finally Amanda said “It was nice to meet you, Draco. Hope we’ll see you around here again!”</p><p><br/>Draco gave a curt not, then turned away ducking behind the first building so he could apparate home. He made a mental note to be extra careful to actually end up alone next time he ventured out.</p><p>        ***</p><p> </p><p>Draco’s encounters with Harry grew fewer and farther between. He supposed it made sense, crime had been light recently, so stress around the office was low, and Harry surely preferred to spend time with people he actually liked. Draco increased the frequency of his trips to the pub and reverted to blacking out rather than sleeping. One night he went one shot too many and struggled to wake up for work on time. He managed to apparate in a quarter of an hour late, and noticeably disheveled.</p><p><br/>“Fuck, Malfoy, clean yourself up! I don’t care what kind of shitehole life you live, but in my office you will be presentable and on time, am I clear!?” Mr. Bathurst shouted.</p><p><br/>“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Draco opened his top drawer to let a brush and comb set spring forward. They began tidying his hair and smoothing his ruffled clothing. Apparently he had not been completely forgotten. It was a shame Mr. Bathurst didn’t notice this was the first time ever Draco had been late or unkempt.</p><p><br/>Mr, Bathurst dropped a package on his desk. “This needs to go to Mr. Liscion, pronto.”</p><p><br/>“I’ll summon the fastest owl, sir.”</p><p>“You’ll take it yourself, Malfoy.”</p><p><br/>“Can I apparate into his home?”</p><p><br/>“He doesn’t know you’re coming, his security will be up.”</p><p><br/>“Floo?”</p><p><br/>“His chimney is offline today for cleaning.”</p><p><br/>“Can I fly?”</p><p><br/>“No, you’ll have to cross muggle territory.”</p><p><br/>“Then how do you propose I get there?”</p><p><br/>Mr. Bathurst smiled a horrible smile. “Walk.”</p><p>        ***</p><p> </p><p>Draco couldn’t understand why wizards found it so hard to blend in with muggles when necessary. All you had to do was hide out in muggle territory and wait for someone who looked similar to your pedigree to pass by, then copy whatever they were wearing. For Draco this was a pair of relaxed blue jeans, a charcoal grey v-neck t-shirt, and a pair of wheat-coloured hiking boots. It was unusually bright for mid-autumn, so he tucked a pair of black glasses into his breast pocket for the sun, and apparated to the closest point the wizarding world could take him. He stepped onto the muggle street, and tried not to look too often at the little paper map he had to guide him.</p><p><br/>When he had been walking for just over an hour he started to regret not bringing any water and wondering if he could dip behind a building to conjure some. Then he heard a familiar voice.</p><p><br/>“Draco! No fancy dress this time, eh?” said Kevin.</p><p><br/>“We missed you at the dog park!” said Amanda.</p><p><br/>Somebody missed him?</p><p><br/>“What are you up to in these parts?”</p><p><br/>“Have to deliver an urgent package,” Draco held up the small canvas bag holding the mystery parcel.</p><p><br/>“We won’t keep you then. But if you want to come for a walk another time let’s swap numbers.”</p><p><br/>Cell phones had been gaining popularity in the wizarding world. They were faster than sending letters by owl, and the recipient didn’t have to be home unlike with the floo network. But Draco didn’t have a phone. There was nobody he wanted to talk to.</p><p><br/>“My phone is about to die,” he wasn’t sure what this meant, but he remembered hearing it in a muggle technology 101 workshop the department had to do. “And I haven’t memorized my new number.” He didn’t understand the point of having a phone if you couldn’t tell people how to reach you on it, but the seminar assured them this was a plausible excuse.</p><p><br/>“Here’re ours, then.” Kevin quickly wrote them down on a napkin and handed it to Draco who nodded and walked away, putting the napkin in his pocket. He thought perhaps he’d wear a disguise next time he ran an errand in the muggle world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco’s Harry-dry-spell continued for another booze-filled fortnight. Then one evening he was wrapping up his work, considering again fucking off to the Scottish woods for a bit when a livid Harry apparated into his own office with a crash. Draco strode over to see what was happening. He peered through harry’s open door and found him feverishly shaking with glassy rage in his eyes. Without warning Harry punched the wall creating a sizeable crater.</p><p><br/>“Fucking hell, Potter.”</p><p><br/>Fresh rage skirted over Harry’s face and he dived toward Draco, stopping when their noses were practically touching.</p><p><br/>“Now?” asked Draco coolly.</p><p><br/>Harry let his gaze fall to the floor. Tears started to pool in his eyes. Draco raised his want to silently fix the wall, and Harry’s hand.<br/>“Come on, I’ll take you home.”</p><p><br/>Panic burst into Harry’s voice. “No! Not home! I can’t go home.”</p><p><br/>“The pub?”</p><p><br/>“Somewhere… private.”</p><p><br/>Draco considered his options and finally said “okay.” He put an arm around Harry’s shoulder and apparated them into his living room. Harry sank into a nearby armchair barely taking notice of his surroundings.</p><p><br/>“You look like you need a drink, Potter.”</p><p><br/>Harry closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he opened them Draco was pressing a bottle into his hands.</p><p><br/>“Cheers,” Draco clinked his own bottle against Harry’s and took a large swig. Harry followed suit.</p><p><br/>“So, will you tell me what happened, or are you going to make me guess?” Draco asked, sitting on a couch facing Harry.</p><p><br/>Harry took a steadying breath and considered what to say next.</p><p><br/>“You wouldn’t understand.”</p><p><br/>“I don’t think you know me very well, Potter.”</p><p><br/>After a long pause Harry finally said “I was arresting one of your dad’s cronies who managed to fly under the radar until now until he got bored and tortured some poor muggles. I wasn’t prepared for how unrepentant he was.”</p><p><br/>“I think you’d be surprised how few of my dad’s cronies are truly repentant, then.”</p><p><br/>“No, you don’t get it,” Harry said a little louder than he’d planned. “This guy helped case up my parents’ place before they were murdered. He kept telling me how pretty my mother was, and how I looked just like her. The horrible things he’d have done with her corpse if he had the chance.” Harry started to shake with rage again.</p><p><br/>“But he’s with the dementors now, yeah?”</p><p><br/>“Yeah,” said Harry. “But I wish they’d have taken his soul out on the spot. That guy shouldn’t have the faintest chance of being back in a world with people.”</p><p><br/>“I doubt someone so twisted will last more than a couple days in Azkaban before completely losing his mind…. Is that why you didn’t want to go home, Potter, you live in your parents’ old house?”</p><p><br/>“…Yeah.”</p><p><br/>“Yet you live there with all the bad memories floating around.”</p><p><br/>“I think about what it could have been. What it was while they were happy. It’s the only piece of my family I have, so I have to make the most of it, I guess. It was alright until tonight.”</p><p><br/>Harry finally glanced around his current surroundings. It reminded him of Sirius’s family home.</p><p><br/>“What about this place? Looks like inheritance as well.”</p><p><br/>The furniture was obviously at least three generations old, there was faded wallpaper, and doilies on all the tables. Picture frame-shaped spots lined the wall. Harry presumed Draco got tired of being shouted at by ancient ancestors and tucked the pictures in a closet or the attic.</p><p><br/>“It’s a constant reminder of my family bullshite.”</p><p><br/>“So how do you cope?”</p><p><br/>Draco tilted his head toward a side table covered in booze bottles and punctuated this thought by taking a shot. Harry followed suit.</p><p><br/>“Say, Potter, why aren’t you with Weasley and Granger now?”</p><p><br/>“They’re trying for a baby. I give them extra space these days.”</p><p><br/>“Does Weasley know how?”</p><p><br/>Harry burst out laughing. Draco smirked.</p><p><br/>They took a couple more shots throughout the evening until they fell asleep. When Draco woke up Harry had already left. He dragged himself out of bed, dressed, and went to work.</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>Shortly after he arrived Mr. Bathurst strode into Draco’s office with another package under his arm. Draco stood, expecting to need his muggle clothes again.</p><p><br/>“Sit!” barked Mr. Bathurst. “This one is for you.”</p><p><br/>Mr. Bathurst waited impatiently as Draco carefully tore open the envelope and let its contents fall to his desk.</p><p><br/>“A phone?”</p><p><br/>“Ministry issue for all the aurors.”</p><p><br/>“But I’m not an auror.”</p><p><br/>“You’re in the department, you get a phone, simple as that. Instructions in the envelope; number is on the back page.”</p><p><br/>As Mr. Bathurst left Draco pulled out the instructions and was greeted by a very friendly, albeit slightly baffled wizard demonstrating how to use the phone. The demonstrator took three tries to turn the device on and nearly dropped it when the screen lit up. Draco flipped to the last page and saw his phone number illuminated in a vibrant green. Another way for nobody to speak to him. Just what he needed. He shoved the phone and manual back in their envelope and tossed the whole thing in his desk drawer.</p><p><br/>Lunch time rolled around and Draco considered nipping off to the pub for a couple rounds because why the fuck not. When he sat at the bar he was unpleasantly surprised to hear Ron’s voice from a nearby table. He got up to move further down the bar away from them, but couldn’t help stealing a glance at Harry after last night. He looked happy. Almost.<br/>Draco tried to turn and walk away quietly, but it was too late to go unnoticed.</p><p><br/>“Oi, what the fuck are you looking at?” shouted Ron.</p><p><br/>Draco stared with hollow, glassy eyes at Ron’s fiery ones.</p><p><br/>“Just forget it, Ron,” said Harry.</p><p><br/>“No, come on, we should get to have lunch in peace. You should be in Azkaban with the rest of your lot!”</p><p><br/>“Come on, Ron, he works in Harry’s department. Don’t give him a reason to make life difficult for Harry.”</p><p><br/>“Yeah, leave it, Ron. I report to him on lots of stuff.”</p><p><br/>All eyes were on Draco now. He rolled his own and walked to the far side of the pub, barely hearing Ron say “he’s still a slimy git.”</p><p><br/>Draco expected nothing from Harry, he was using Harry as much as Harry was using him, but the encounter stung. So this was the legacy of one of the greatest old wizarding families in the world, eh? He downed an extra drink to dispel any feelings from the confrontation and eventually went back to work. He didn’t see Harry again that day. He was pretty sure he was avoiding him, as he knew Harry was on desk duty that week.</p><p><br/>When the workday ended he again had to decide what to do with himself. He didn’t fancy more time in the pub after this afternoon, he clearly wasn’t getting rage-fucked again soon, and wandering the Scottish forest wasn’t that appealing to begin with.</p><p><br/>Draco stepped in front of his large windows and stared at the street below. People were walking and chatting; children skipped on the cobblestones. Draco wondered what would happen if he let himself fall through the glass. Obviously he could save himself with just the slightest effort, but what would happen if he didn’t? Would anybody notice if he didn’t come in tomorrow? Would the people below try to save him, only to realize who he was and carry on instead like nothing was happening? Would anybody tend to his broken body in the street, or would they just step over it?<br/>He stepped back form the window and opened his desk drawer. He supposed he could spend the evening setting up his phone now since he was sure he’d get an earful from Mr. Bathurst in the morning otherwise.</p><p><br/>As he picked up the envelope a napkin scribbled with ballpoint slipped from his t-shirt front pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?”<br/>“Amanda? … It’s Draco.”</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>It took a lot of willpower for Draco not to kick the dog that kept jumping on him. He didn’t like animals altogether and this one clearly didn’t understand its place. He was relieved when they got to the dog park and Snoopy was let free to roam away from him.</p><p><br/>Amanda and Kevin were extremely chatty and Draco struggled to keep up with their muggle jargon. He thought steering the conversation himself might be safest, so he tried to think of the least magical topics he knew anything about. He settled on the weather and gardening. His mother, like all cultured English witches, kept a neat flower garden when he was growing up. He was pretty confident there were more plants in the world than any person could keep track of, wizard or muggle, so he figured if he mentioned one that was unknown in the muggle world, nobody would notice. He would just seem very horticultural.</p><p><br/>At the end of an hour Amanda and Kevin gathered up Snoopy to go home.</p><p><br/>“Draco, do you play board games?”</p><p><br/>“Board games? Like chess?”</p><p><br/>They laughed.</p><p><br/>“Sort of,” said Kevin. “We’re playing with some friends the weekend after next. We have another newcomer, so we’ll bring some good intro games. Join us and you can see how you like it.”</p><p><br/>Draco nodded, but wondered to himself how he could get out of it without cutting ties. This was a little too deep into muggleness for his comfort.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>December came and so did the ministry holiday party the first Saturday evening. Draco hated these events almost as much as all his coworkers hated him, but it was mandatory for employees of his rank to attend as a show of good will. He was sure his colleagues would prefer he drown himself in his own supply of liquor at home, but Mr. Bathurst would make his life hell if he left before supper. At least it was an open bar.</p><p><br/>The venue this year was no doubt a brilliant idea by the the senior Weasley, Draco thought with a sneer. It was a regular muggle hall in the middle of muggle London. Weasley had just managed an extremely difficult muggle-relations case so the other departments were being very agreeable to his odd interests. The hall kept at least a skeleton staff on duty for each event, so the guests were told to use predetermined apparition points nearby and walk from there. Since they would have to walk muggle London everybody was in their own interpretation of muggle formal wear. Had he been less hated, someone might have commented on how smart Draco looked in his tightly tapered tuxedo.</p><p><br/>He hovered around the corners as much as possible and mostly went unnoticed. When he sat for supper those who had been sitting nearby cleared the area. They were too drunk to be properly surreptitious and he could hear them loudly whispering their thoughts on how he avoided Azkaban, whether he was hoping a new Voldemort would rise, and whether someone as noxious as him might eat toads for breakfast.</p><p><br/>He tried to drown out the noise with fire whiskey, but failed to make a dent in his perception and cursed his high alcohol tolerance.</p><p><br/>Finally dinner ended without any major incidents and he quietly left. Outside the hall he saw Potter a few steps in front of him and beyond that a mother and daughter slumped on the sidewalk wrapped in a tattered blanket. He silently strode past Harry who was fishing in the inner jacket pockets of his own slate grey suit. Harry didn’t carry muggle money, but was able to summon some wrapped food items to give to the mother and daughter, hoping they wouldn’t notice the physical impossibility of the items fitting in his jacket pocket.</p><p><br/>Just as Harry caught up with Draco someone shrieked behind him. He wheeled around to see the pair he had just fed with grins on their faces. The mother snatched a very shiny piece of paper off the ground and tucked it carefully away in an inner pocket. Harry was sure the ground had been completely clean a second ago. Harry alternately stared at Draco and back at the mother and daughter.</p><p><br/>“Did…. did you…”</p><p><br/>“Lucky of them to find a winning ticket, eh, Potter?”</p><p><br/>Draco turned the corner and vanished.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Another week passed and on Friday night Draco was back at Kevin and Amanda’s for board games. Draco’s new friends explained at length their opinions on various games and how they chose the ones they wanted to play. They avoided games that ended at different times for different players because it meant people had to wait around with nothing to do. They liked cooperative games, but Amanda had a soft spot for silly, luck-based dice-rolling games.</p><p><br/>Draco was shocked at all they had to say about the human mind, its general likes and dislikes. Most people didn’t like chess because it wasn’t that exciting; you need some luck to keep people on the edges of their seats. But too little strategy and a game is pointless.</p><p><br/>In the wizard world the options for games were pretty much chess, or thoughtless toys for children. There was nothing as sophisticated as what was being described to him. He was also amazed by the muggles’ patience for fiddly little pieces. Items had to be carefully placed on the board or you could irreparably confuse the situation of the game. Scores had to be calculated, often in parts, and tracked over several rounds. This wasn’t like Draco’s world where you could simply put a counter in the air and glance at it at leisure. He watched Amanda and Kevin do these things with skill throughout the evening. Perhaps this muggle world wasn’t so simple after all.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry wasn’t sure what he expected to gain from visiting Draco, but after seeing him help muggles he had to speak to him. To see if it was part of some nefarious plot, or if Draco had been murdered and replaced by someone using polyjuice potion. He was glad he’d paid attention when leaving the house the last time or he’d never have been able to find the place. Harry couldn’t exactly ask someone for Draco’s address.</p><p><br/>As he walked up the thick stone steps he noticed something alarming. He swallowed thickly and knocked on the door, worried something was very wrong. Draco’s house was not magically concealed; any muggle could knock on the door if they chose. He wondered if Draco had finally hit his rock bottom and lost the will to follow even basic protocol.</p><p><br/>After preparing himself for the worst, Harry’s mouth fell open when he saw the Draco that answered the door. He was smiling. Not sneering, or smirking. Smiling warmly at someone inside. And he was wearing muggle clothes: khakis and a white v-neck t-shirt. Draco faltered when he realized who was at the door.</p><p><br/>“P-Potter. What are you doing here?”</p><p><br/>“Is that a friend, Draco? We have room for one more!”</p><p><br/>Draco looked at Harry with an uncomfortably neutral expression, then stepped aside and beckoned him in.</p><p><br/>Harry had to clamp his jaw shut to stop himself from gasping. Draco was entertaining muggles. They were playing muggle games on enchanted-to-look-like-muggle furniture. There was a dog on the couch. Didn’t Draco hate dogs?</p><p><br/>“Hi, friend of Draco! I’m Amanda. This is Kevin.”</p><p><br/>“Dave; hello,” said a man who looked about Harry’s age.</p><p><br/>“Helen; nice to meet you,” a woman about ten years older than Harry stood to shake his hand.</p><p><br/>“Hi… I’m… Harry.”</p><p><br/>“Harry Potter? Didn’t Draco call you Potter?”</p><p><br/>Harry’s eyes widened. Of course Draco wasn’t entertaining muggles. These were undercover wizards, though to what end he wasn’t sure.</p><p><br/>“You must have been schoolmates then, for him to call you by your surname.”</p><p><br/>“… That’s right.” They really were muggles. He hadn’t just been recognized. Draco really had a house full of muggles.</p><p><br/>The whole house was different. There were clearly lots of enchantments to make it feel natural to Draco’s guests, and it had been well cleaned, but there was more than that. When Harry was there the first time the house seemed to shout “stiff upper lip!” but now the atmosphere was comfortable and dynamic.</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>When the games ended and the guests were leaving Harry offered to help clean up. Draco nodded, unsure what to expect. Harry didn’t look like he needed a shag, but what else did he ever want from Draco?</p><p><br/>“Who would have thought; a Malfoy fraternizing with muggle scum,” smirked Harry.</p><p><br/>“Who would have thought, the gentle saviour rage-fucking a former death-eater.”</p><p><br/>“Fair point.”</p><p><br/>“…Who am I, Potter?”</p><p><br/>“Aside from Draco Malfoy, heir of the finest pureblood family that ever lived in Britain?”</p><p><br/>“Aside from him.”</p><p><br/>“I have no idea. You’re clearly not the Malfoy I knew in school.”</p><p><br/>“Among muggles I’m nobody. I’m a young man with a funny name, nothing more. I can be whatever I choose. Even my dark mark is just an edgy tattoo, not something I have to desperately keep out of sight.”</p><p><br/>“And they’re the simple halfwits who believe whatever you tell them?”</p><p><br/>“They’re my friends who have no reason to see anything but the best in me.”</p><p><br/>Harry stared at him with an expression that looked almost like admiration.</p><p><br/>“You must believe people can really change, then.”</p><p><br/>“I suppose.”</p><p><br/>“Who am I, then?”</p><p><br/>“Aside from Harry Potter, the boy who lived? The Saviour? The Chosen One?”</p><p><br/>“Aside form him.”</p><p><br/>“Auror extraordinaire?”</p><p><br/>Harry laughed. “Hardly. You know they gave me that office because of my reputation. Not because I did anything to deserve it.”</p><p><br/>“A small token to acknowledge the difficult life you led. Especially with slimy gits like me about.”</p><p><br/>Harry laughed, then eventually said “how about half boy, half horcrux? Last known address of Voldemort’s soul.”</p><p><br/>Draco stared blankly at him. “What?”</p><p><br/>“They didn’t tell you, eh? I was the last of seven horcruxes. Meaning I lived with a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside me since the night my parents were murdered. I have felt different since the last battle, but I have no idea if that’s because Voldemort is no longer with me or just because that was the end of my adolescence. I feel like a chunk of myself is missing, but I don’t know what it was supposed to be. I don’t know what I’m good at or bad at — I mean, I know I’m good at flying; I’ve done that plenty since then, and I think I’m a pretty good auror, but nobody gives me real feedback, so who knows.”</p><p><br/>“Does it matter?”</p><p><br/>“What?” said Harry, anger creeping into his throat.</p><p>“I mean, you don’t know who you would have been without Voldemort vacationing in you, but you know who you are now. Is that guy so bad? However he came to be?”</p><p><br/>“I guess not.”</p><p><br/>The stared at each other for a few moments before Harry walked toward Draco. Considering him with a final look, he leaned in to kiss him. Draco cautiously put his arms around Harry.</p><p><br/>“How about we go upstairs,” asked Harry.</p><p><br/>“You mean I get the luxury of a bed this time?”</p><p><br/>Draco led Harry to his room — a place as dismal as the downstairs when Harry first saw it.</p><p><br/>“Why don’t we brighten it for tonight?” Harry enchanted the room to be less bleak: he replaced the peeling wallpaper with sunny paint, modernized the huge bed, and made the moth-eaten rug look whole.</p><p><br/>This all made Draco nervous; this caring, thoughtful Harry wasn’t the version he was used to. He didn’t let his face betray him, however, eager to see what the new Harry would do.</p><p><br/>Harry put his glasses on the side table, then sat on the bed, slowly undressing. Draco undressed as well, and kneeled on the bed ready to spread on Harry’s command. To his surprise Harry gently pushed him onto his back and continued to kiss him. When Draco was throughly flushed Harry lowered his head to Draco’s throbbing erection and teased it with the tip of his tongue. He traced little swirls over Draco’s creamy thighs and hips, and finally took the length in his mouth when Draco started to twitch.</p><p><br/>“Oddly tender for a rage-fuck.”</p><p><br/>Harry smirked with Draco still in his mouth. He started to suck and move his head rhythmically. Draco moaned beneath him and laced his fingers into Harry’s hair. Harry then used his wand to lubricate a finger and rub it over the fold of Draco’s entrance. He applied some pressure and let his finger be sucked up into the tight warmth. He massaged Draco’s swollen gland and Draco quivered under him. He massaged Draco from the inside with firm little strokes in time with his deep sucking. Within a few minutes Draco was overcome with sensation and his white ribbons flooded the back of Harry’s mouth. Harry swallowed hard, enjoying Draco’s violent wriggling from his touch.</p><p><br/>Harry let Draco’s cock fall out of his mouth and freed his finger. Then he moved to the top of the bed and straddled Draco’s chest. Draco opened his mouth for Harry to insert his own erection, who then gripped the headboard to better position himself.</p><p><br/>Draco sucked and used his hands to squeeze Harry’s tight arse. Harry carefully slid in and out, enjoying the friction of Draco’s tongue on his underside. It didn’t take long before Harry spurted his own white ribbons into Draco’s willing mouth.</p><p><br/>He eased himself off Draco then collapsed beside him, putting an arm around Draco’s torso and pressing his face into Draco’s neck.</p><p><br/>“What was that, Potter?”</p><p><br/>“Harry. I think you’d better start calling me Harry.”</p><p><br/>“Harry, then. What was that?”</p><p><br/>“The first of what I hope will be many non-rage-related sexual encounters?”</p><p><br/>Draco’s sex-addled brain was struggling harder than otherwise to make sense of current events. Was Harry Potter actually beginning to like him as a real person?</p><p><br/>“Alright, then.”</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>When Draco opened his bleary eyes the next morning he saw that no traces of Harry remained in his room. Ah, he thought, they were more amicable fuck-buddies now, but still just fuck-buddies. That made sense. How could he have expected anything else?</p><p><br/>As fogginess cleared from his brain he noted it was Saturday and opted to dress in jeans and a sky-blue t-shirt. They had nothing on the poise of wizard wear, but casual muggle clothes were so easy. He understood the appeal.</p><p><br/>When he had cleaned his teeth and descended the stairs, his understanding of his and Harry’s relationship was shattered once again. There was Harry in his kitchen, slicing fruit and whistling. When he saw Draco he smiled and beckoned him to sit at the kitchen table on which appeared two portions of hot coffee, steaming pancakes, and the fruit had just been cutting. Draco sat bewildered.</p><p><br/>“Okay, Potter- Harry, what the hell are you playing it?”</p><p><br/>“What do you mean?” Harry asked, sincerely confused.</p><p><br/>“What is this… domesticity? Surely you don’t make breakfast for all your fuck-buddies?”</p><p><br/>“I do. Though that’s easy when I’ve only ever had the one. But I thought we’d be more than fuck-buddies. Wasn’t that clear?”</p><p><br/>“No, Harry. Nothing is clear.”</p><p><br/>Harry sat, an empathetic look on his face that made Draco want to punch him, just a little.</p><p><br/>“I know you’ve changed. I realize I don’t know the new you that well, but I’m impressed with what I see. I like you. I thought we could be more than we were. Maybe friends with benefits? But actual friends.”</p><p><br/>Draco mulled it over in disbelief. He had redeemed himself to Harry Potter. Harry sodding Potter wanted to be his actual friend.</p><p><br/>“Alright,” he finally said.</p><p> </p><p>“Although… You’d be a friend I kept separate from my other friends. For probably obvious reasons.”</p><p><br/>“Understood. I won’t be mentioning you to my mother any time soon.”</p><p><br/>Harry laughed out loud at the thought. To seal the deal they clinked their coffee cups and drank.</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>They easily fell into a pleasant pattern: they took frequent trips to the muggle world where they could be seen together without raising any eyebrows. Harry joined Draco at Amanda and Kevin’s from time to time for board games. At work they remained completely aloof and usually called each other by surname to avoid any suspicion. On weekends they shagged like rabbits and occasionally during weekday lunchtimes if the workload was light.</p><p><br/>Weeks flew by like minutes, then months like hours. Over this time Draco’s whole demeanour softened. He hadn’t visited the pub once since he befriended Harry. He often hummed to himself as he worked. When he passed people in the office corridors he would nod, and sometimes even smile, not caring that many of them muttered feigned concern over his mental health as he passed.</p><p><br/>Their arrangement, however, was still a precarious one, at least for Harry, so it naturally came with its share of hiccoughs. One unseasonably chilly afternoon Draco was rummaging in his desk for a sweater to fight a draught blustering into his office. He pulled out a maroon jumper he didn’t remember seeing before. He shrugged, assuming it was a forgotten muggle-safe garment he’d tossed in there in case he had to venture out on a cool day. He pulled it over his head and left his office for his upcoming meeting. He had only taken a few paces when he heard “Oi!”</p><p><br/>He turned to see Ron Weasley scowling.</p><p><br/>“What are you doing with the jumper my mum made?”</p><p><br/>“Your mum? It was in my desk,” said Draco in a carefully cool tone.</p><p><br/>“What the hell was it doing there? It’s Harry’s!”</p><p><br/>Careful not to glance at Harry standing nearby, Draco lowered his gaze and mentally chastised himself for not noticing the glaring gold H. He pulled the jumper off and threw it roughly at Harry.</p><p><br/>“You should be more mindful of where your things end up, Potter.” He continued his way to his meeting, trying not to shiver.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One morning after a particularly passionate Friday Draco was making breakfast in Harry’s kitchen. Just as a very disheveled, sleepy Harry strode in, a tiny brown owl started incessantly pecking at the window. Harry opened it, and the tiny owl zoomed around the kitchen a few times before finally standing on the table with its leg outstretched for Harry to remove his letter. The owl then zoomed away through the still open window. Draco closed it and joined Harry at the table.</p><p><br/>“It’s from Ginny. She’s getting married.”</p><p>“Didn’t you two date? Is there anything there I should know about?” Draco laughed.</p><p>“No,…” Harry said carefully. “I’m happy for her; we still chat from time to time. She mentioned this guy before. I didn’t realize how serious they were, though.”</p><p><br/>“Harry Potter plus one,” Draco read over Harry’s shoulder. “Doesn’t she know you don’t have a plus one?” he smirked.</p><p><br/>“Be my date, Draco.”</p><p><br/>“What?”</p><p><br/>“Date me. Be more than my friend.”</p><p><br/>“What are you on about?”</p><p><br/>“Look, if you don’t feel the same that’s fine, we can be fuck-buddies… or less, or whatever, but I’ve really liked the time we’ve spent together. I like you as more than a friend. Will you date me for real?”</p><p><br/>“How could that work, Harry? We both know there’s a reason I’ve been a secret.”</p><p><br/>“So you like me as more than a friend too, then?”</p><p><br/>Draco smiled. “Yeah, I do, but your friends hate me and I can’t blame them.”</p><p><br/>“The wedding is almost a year and a half away. We have until then to figure out how to tell them.”</p><p><br/>“You’ve seen how Weasle- Ron. You’ve seen how hatefully Ron looks at me when I’m just passing by. How will he accept that we’re dating?”</p><p><br/>“I see how much you’ve changed. I’m sure they will too. With time. Perhaps we can start being friendlier little-by-little when I’m around Ron and Hermione. Ease them into the idea.”</p><p><br/>Draco had his doubts. In school he and Harry were proper rivals. It had been for very different reasons, but both their names were well-known. They were both rich — even if Harry wasn’t raised so — their families both respected, and things came easily to them because of their reputations. There was a sort of equilibrium between them. To Hermione and the Weasleys, Draco was a simple antagonist. He wasn’t so sure they could ever be convinced.</p><p><br/>“Besides,” said Harry, “Sirius and Tonks were from your lot, weren’t they? And we all liked them.”</p><p>Draco laughed, as if that could be enough to convince the others of his goodness.</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>Harry figured if he was to ease Ron and Hermione to Draco’s existence, they should start seeing him in the background more. He asked them to meet him in his office before lunch regularly now. This was easy as Hermione worked in the same building and Ron down the street. Harry and Draco orchestrated things so that Draco would pass the trio on the way out. He would nod at Harry with a slightly warmer than neutral expression, to give the impression of an improved relationship, but keep things looking coworkerly and nothing more. However, Ron simply seethed every time Draco looked their way and Draco quickly felt the plan was failing spectacularly.</p><p><br/>“Maybe we can construct a situation where they bump into you spending time with muggles.”</p><p><br/>“How could they be sure it was muggles I was spending time with and not disguised wizards?”</p><p><br/>“Fair point.”</p><p> </p><p>That evening Draco was pacing his home, thinking of flattering situations he could orchestrate and coming up blank. He considered what his life might look like if one day he didn’t have to orchestrate situations. How might it feel to live surrounded by Amandas and Kevins and leave his grim past behind? He started to wander through parts of the house he normally avoided and rummage through his ancestral refuse. Perhaps if he could finally bring himself to look through the house and its contents he could dispose of everything undesirable and start fresh.<br/>He walked into the second floor study and looked through a bookshelf with particularly offensive titles like How to Solve the Muggle Problem, and The Dangers of Mixed-Race Wizard Marriages. After a moment of consideration he spilled white and blue flames from his wand onto several books and watched the blaze spread to the rest when a shrill portrait started screaming at him.</p><p><br/>“Those are the collected works of your great-great-grandfather. He was a pioneer in wizard psychology. How could you disg-.”</p><p><br/>Draco cast a silencing spell over the frame and reversed it so his relative could only see the wall.</p><p><br/>When all that remained of the shelf was a smokey outline, Draco continued through the rest of the house. He found a few more items to burn, as well as what may or may not have been torture devices that he planned to hand over to the Ministry for the Destruction of Dangerous and Controlled Wizarding Artefacts. As soon as he could be sure he wouldn’t be arrested on the spot for possessing them. Here and there he found the odd item with some utility: a pocket weather predictor that at the moment was raining on a small patch of carpet, a very ornate pair of omnioculars, and an ancient book on dragon breeds around the world. By the time Draco went to bed he had burned several pieces of furniture and a couple dozen more egregious books. He had also sent at least a third of the house’s contents to the Well-Wishing Wizards’ Collection for the Woefully Underprivileged.</p><p><br/>When Harry went over a few days later he hardly recognized the place.</p><p><br/>“Half your stuff’s gone.”</p><p><br/>“You mean half my family’s trash is gone.”</p><p><br/>The dark wallpaper had been stripped, the doilies were removed, and the heavy curtains had been replaced with airy pastel fabric.</p><p><br/>“I don’t know what to do with the rest. I s’pose I can’t just dump the portraits, however unpleasant their inhabitants are. And I don’t know what to do about the furniture. I don’t really want to live here forever, but it’s home for now. I should do something a bit more permanent than bewitch everything to look passable.”</p><p><br/>“This doesn’t have to be your home.”</p><p><br/>“I suppose I could buy another house. I can’t imagine I’d be able to sell this place with my name attached to it, but I could let it rot.”</p><p><br/>“You could. That’s not what I had in mind, though.”</p><p><br/>Draco stared at Harry as he processed the suggestion.</p><p><br/>“Oh?”</p><p><br/>“Live with me, Draco. Get out of your family’s shite memories and live in mine instead.”</p><p><br/>“I don’t know, Harry. It’s weird enough living in my home with my relatives looking down on me from their portraits. Wouldn’t your parents be rolling in their graves if they knew their once home was going to hold a former Death Eater?”</p><p><br/>“I don’t know. Never knew them, remember? So I can’t be expected to keep up with what they’d think. But given the type of company they kept, I think they were the sort of people who knew others could change. I hope they’d be happy I’m happy.”</p><p><br/>“What a notion,” Draco smirked. “Don’t you reckon you’d better tell your friends you don’t hate my guts before they find us shacked up together?”</p><p><br/>“Fair point. They won’t be coming over much with the holidays approaching. I reckon I could keep you secretly stashed away while we keep trying to ease them into the idea of your very existence.”</p><p><br/>“… Okay, let’s get out of this shitehole.”</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>Easing Ron and Hermione remained a challenge. Ron continued to glare and Hermione usually opted to ignore Draco completely when they saw each other. The evening after their last failed attempt the lovers were lounging in matching flannel pyjamas. Harry was sprawled out on their couch with quill and newspaper puzzling over the crossword. Draco stepped over Harry to curl up beside him, brandishing mugs of hot chocolate against the blustery November weather.</p><p><br/>“Quidditch defender in Florence.”</p><p><br/>“I don’t know any Italian.”</p><p><br/>“Hmm…”</p><p><br/>After an hour and exactly three solved clues, they decided it was time to turn in. Harry placed his paper and quill, along with his glasses on the side table by his head and quickly fell asleep, one arm around Draco whose head was nestled into Harry’s chest.</p><p><br/>When bright light shone through the window signalling the end of the morning, Draco finally awoke. He tilted his head to smile up at a softly snoring Harry and gently nudged him awake. When he finally noticed the sight in front of the couch his eyes bulged.</p><p><br/>“Morning,” said Harry, leaning forward for a kiss.</p><p><br/>Draco held him at arms’ length. “Get your glasses.”</p><p><br/>Harry’s face turned serious. “What’s wro-“</p><p><br/>As he put on his glasses he glimpsed something orange from the corner of his eye and was eventually able to focus on four horrified faces gaping at the two of them. It was Saturday the 20th. It was the day Harry agreed to have Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and her fiancé, Yannick, over for brunch since it had been forever since they’d all been together. It had completely slipped Harry’s mind amid his Draco-based scheming. Fuck.</p><p><br/>Draco was immensely glad he and Harry had been too tired for sex the previous night, seeing as how they never bothered to dress before falling asleep. In fact it was a fairly common occurrence for Draco to wake up to Harry sucking him off, so all in all this situation could have been a lot worse, though it definitely could have been better.</p><p><br/>Ginny was the first to pull her jaw off the floor. Though, her fiancé’s jaw was on the floor for a different reason. He was German and went to school abroad so he knew nothing of the Malfoys; he was shocked that he would be eating in Harry Potter’s house and nobody had thought to tell him.</p><p><br/>“Come on, let’s get cooking and let these two get organized.” Ginny pulled Ron with her by the forearm. He resisted, but ultimately had to give in to her surprising strength. The other two slowly followed leaving Draco and Harry to climb the stairs and dress properly. As Draco walked he noticed his bottoms hanging particularly low on his hips and realized how tightly he’d been squeezing his muscles. He tried to take a calming breath, but he could not undo the knot below his ribs. Draco had barely started moving things from his previous address; all he had with him were muggle clothes. He pulled out a pair of black jeans, a lilac t-shirt, and a beige cardigan. He felt extremely underdressed. Everybody else would be wearing robes; this would be his first time in wizard company when he was dressed to anything less than the nines. He supposed he could probably fit Harry’s clothes, but it might be more awkward if someone at the table recognized his garments as not his own.</p><p><br/>Harry noticed him awkwardly staring at his clothes.</p><p><br/>“We can match.” He put on a pair of light bluejeans, and a dark grey jumper. “Now I’m the most casually dressed.”</p><p><br/>Draco forced a half smile that came out as a grimace.</p><p><br/>“Look, obviously this isn’t ideal, but… we’ll manage,” he said, kissing Draco on the forehead.</p><p><br/>The pair returned downstairs to find Ron — mouth closed, but eyes wide — hovering near the entrance while the other three were busy in the kitchen.</p><p><br/>“Draco, do you cook?” asked Ginny.</p><p><br/>“Err, not much.”</p><p><br/>“Could you set the table, then?”</p><p><br/>“… Yeah.” He had never had to set a table before; house elves had done all the menial tasks at home, and he hadn’t had anybody over for a proper meal since he left the manor. So he placed the dishes by hand as there are few other occasions one has to charm so many items at once and he wasn’t confident he knew how. He became painfully aware that Harry’s guests were taking it in turn to stare at him; it must have been an odd sight with him in muggle clothes doing such a simple task without magic. But nobody said anything.</p><p><br/>“Ron, I think I dropped my keys outside. Could you look?” asked Hermione. “Harry, why don’t you go with him, we have things sorted in here.”</p><p><br/>Ron and Harry glanced at Hermione, then awkwardly at each other, then nodded and stepped outside.</p><p><br/>Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed before they returned and everybody sat down to eat at the round kitchen table. Harry sat down beside Yannick and Ron immediately took the chair on Harry’s other side. Draco wasn’t sure if this was a slight or an oversight, but he tried not to dwell on it either way. He sat opposite Harry.</p><p><br/>Draco was relieved to have someone foreign in their company. Yannick made pleasant conversation with the whole table and either didn’t notice or wholly ignored the tense atmosphere.</p><p>Unfortunately it didn’t take a long before a normally innocuous topic put a spanner in things.</p><p><br/>“Draco, what do your parents do?”</p><p><br/>“Well, his dad is in jail for mass-murder and his mother is now a professional drunk, from what I hear,” said Ron.</p><p><br/>“Ron!” shouted Ginny and Hermione in unison.</p><p>Draco flushed. “Yeah, I guess that’s about right.”</p><p><br/>Ron kept glowering at him; Ginny and Hermione glowered at Ron.</p><p><br/>Draco stood. “I’ll leave.”</p><p><br/>“No!” Harry jumped to his feet, clattering his dishes. “Look, Ron, we all have a history with Draco, but the others will at least try to move forward.</p><p><br/>“I don’t understand how you can forget about everything at Hogwarts so easily. He used to beam when muggle-borns were killed. You of all people should remember how fucking awful he was.”</p><p><br/>“I do remember. I also remember what it’s like to be defined by things outside your control. My whole identity was wrapped up in my parents and in Voldemort. I know how hard it is to break out of that. Draco’s not-“</p><p><br/>“I’ll speak for myself,” Draco cut in. “I know I’ll never make up for what I did; I was a brat who used every dirty trick to get my own way. I’m sorry. For how much I hurt each of you. I will do whatever you need to prove I’m not that person anymore.”</p><p><br/>Ron’s expression remained stoney, but he sighed and nodded his acceptance at Draco.</p><p><br/>The whole table was mulling over Draco’s words, but the next moment was the key to making them sink in. Harry was gazing lovingly at Draco. And Draco was smiling back. Not sneering or scowling; smiling. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had never seen Draco smile. He looked like a completely different person.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You must be joking.”</p><p><br/>“I’m not.”</p><p><br/>“You can’t truly think that’s a good idea, Harry.”</p><p><br/>“I do.”</p><p><br/>“Well, you’re wrong.”</p><p><br/>“Have you got a better idea?”</p><p><br/>Draco had to admit he didn’t. The Weasleys and assorted remaining members of the Order were for all intents and purposes Harry’s family. Harry couldn’t keep them separate forever, nor would he want to.</p><p><br/>“Besides, I’ve already told them.”</p><p><br/>“Arsehole.”</p><p><br/>Harry smirked at him. “You know Ron or Ginny will have told the family by now. I thought I’d deal with it head on.”</p><p><br/>“Fine, but you cannot leave me alone with them for even a second. You must be present at all times.”</p><p><br/>“What if I need to pee?”</p><p><br/>“Hold it.”</p><p><br/>Harry laughed. So it was decided — Draco would be with the Weasleys for Christmas.</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>He thought he’d make a better impression if he brought gifts, but gift-selection was an art of which Draco was no master. If the gifts were too unimpressive, they would be insulting; if they were too expensive-looking it would come off as a humble brag. He took his best guess and tried not to dwell on it. Harry liked them because they were kind, right? He’d never spent significant time with any Weasley older than Fred and George; if Ron whom he tormented could give him another chance, surely the rest of his family could too.</p><p>      ***</p><p> </p><p>Unsurprisingly the atmosphere at the Weasleys was tense when they arrived. Draco had done his best to match Harry’s level of formality when choosing his garments, but he was keenly aware he was the smartest dressed of the lot. Nobody would hold his gaze for very long; he could feel the adults taking it in turns to stare at him, but they quickly looked away whenever he turned to them. It was going to be a long day.</p><p><br/>Usually when Harry had gone to the Weasleys they would tuck in nearly as soon as he’d arrived, but he was used to being the last at the table. This time they had to wait for one more guest. A guest Draco was not prepared for.</p><p><br/>“We’re all here, you can tuck in,” Mrs. Weasley said ushering him to the table.</p><p><br/>“Hello, Hagrid!” Harry said cheerfully.</p><p><br/>“Hello, ‘a-“ When Hagrid caught sight of Draco the colour drained from his face. In a whisper that lacked any secrecy he asked George sitting on his left “what’s a Malfoy doin’ at yer table?”</p><p><br/>“He’s with me,” said Harry. To emphasize this point, he squeezed Draco’s slightly trembling hand.</p><p><br/>Draco had managed to keep his feelings on even ground so far. Harry was right - out of the Weasleys Draco had been worst to Ron at Hogwarts and even Ron would tolerate him, however much displeasure the notion brought him. But Hagrid was another matter. Draco was flooded with all the memories of trying to disgrace and remove him from Hogwarts. Hagrid looked back to Harry, all the warmth of his expression was gone. He gave a small grunt and resolutely turned to his plate for the rest of the meal. Very little was said by anybody and Draco was relieved nobody was comfortable asking him a direct question. The chatter was mostly about how tasty one of Mrs. Weasley’s dishes was, or how Bill and Fleur were managing with Dominique.</p><p><br/>When the places were cleared everybody retired to the sitting room for shots of fire whiskey and to open presents. Draco eyed the stairs.</p><p><br/>“Loo is first door on the left, if you’re wondering, Draco.”</p><p><br/>“Oh. Thanks,… Ginny.” It still felt strange using forenames.</p><p><br/>Draco ascended the stairs. When he returned a few minutes later Harry handed him a shot glass and led him into an armchair. Everybody sipped their whiskey and tried not to make too much eye-contact.</p><p><br/>“We have something for each of you,” Harry said smiling. “Well, except Hagrid. Sorry, we didn’t know you were coming.”</p><p><br/>“Actually,” Draco pulled a neatly wrapped box out of his leather shoulder bag and floated it to Hagrid. “Sorry, it was a bit rushed.”</p><p><br/>Hagrid stared at Draco while he unwrapped the box, clearly suspicious. When the box was open he peered down, unsure what to make of its contents. But his eyes lit up as Draco spoke.</p><p><br/>“That is the first ever encyclopedia of dragons written in English. It was a gift to an ancestor who imported magical animals. I’ve enchanted the pages to be oil- and water-resistant so you can actually read it.”</p><p><br/>Hagrid flushed. “Tha- tha’s very thoughtful of yer,…. Draco. Thank yeh.”</p><p><br/>The tension finally eased and everybody else unwrapped their presents. Mr. Weasley examined the muggle board game he unwrapped — “you mean the players have to move all the pieces themselves? But there are hundreds of them! Astounding!” Mrs. Weasley cooed over an ornate device that looked like a globe spinning in real time. Instead of countries it had pictures of her family members’ faces and would count down to their birthdays, as well as holding their favourite foods, colours, and a handful of other preferences.</p><p><br/>“We thought it must be getting hard to keep track by now,” said Harry.</p><p><br/>“How did you get these?” asked Fred, pouring over a box of exotic joke sweets including a bag of crisps that allowed the eater to temporarily tweet with birds.</p><p><br/>“The overseer of novelty imports owed me a favour,” said Draco.</p><p><br/>“Look, Dominique, zis iz for you.” Fleur helped her daughter unwrap the box. Inside was a set of chunky building blocks that would act out little scenes when assembled into something recognizable. Dominique picked up a block and toddled to Draco, plopping onto her bottom at his feet.</p><p><br/>Draco stared at her. He didn’t know what to do with kids. He was hardly around any, and he had few memories of his own childhood. The few he did have were mostly unpleasant. Dominique pulled herself up, gripping Draco’s robes and held the block up for him to take.</p><p><br/>The whole room seemed to hold its breath. That stung. Even as the worst version of himself Draco would never intentionally hurt a baby. He held out his hand to accept the block and the room breathed a sigh of relief. He let Dominique climb up his robes and plunk herself in his lap. He wasn’t sure what to do. He rested a hand on her side so she couldn’t fall over and offered her the block. She gave him a huge grin when she accepted the block and he smiled back. Finally the remaining adults in the room saw what Harry had seen. They had never seen Draco smile. He must have changed.</p><p><br/>“This is for you,” said Mrs. Weasley. “I wasn’t sure what colour was appropriate,… so I kept it neutral,… Draco.”</p><p><br/>He opened the box and revealed a black jumper with a silver D on the front. It was the first hand-made gift Draco had ever received and it nearly brought a tear to his eye.</p><p><br/>“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. It’s lovely.”</p><p><br/>The conversation for the rest of the afternoon was awkward, but everybody managed. Draco no longer felt like he was constantly being stared at, and he was happy to focus most of his attention on Dominique whose unbridled joy was infectious.</p><p><br/>When it was finally time to leave, Draco could just make out Hagrid talking to Harry.</p><p><br/>“‘Arry, I didn’t even know you were into blokes. And him. Him! Of all the blokes. Yer a better man tha’ me, eh, to leave e’erythin’ in the past. But I ca’ see ‘e isn’t the same bratty kid ‘e was. This was a very though’ful gift, i’ was. An’ yeh know, ‘Arry, if ‘e makes yeh ‘appy, we’re all ‘appy for yeh, e’en if we don’ un’erstan’ right away.”</p><p><br/>“Thanks, Hagrid. He really does.”</p><p><br/>Draco thanked the Weasleys for their hospitality and left hand-in-hand with Harry.</p><p><br/>“Aren’t you glad we came?”</p><p><br/>“Yeah.”</p><p><br/>“And it wasn’t so bad, was it? I told you they’d come around.”</p><p><br/>“True. But let’s see how you like it.”</p><p><br/>“What do you mean?”</p><p><br/>Draco gave Harry a mischievous grin. “We still have to tell my mother.”</p>
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